#northern echoes

[theoldaeroplane]

basically had this exact thing happen in Fray's session. his buddy Vic is gonna do it anyway

[warsamongthestars]

BAD BATCH (CHARACTERS) + ECHO HEADCANONS-- WITH STORIED BITS!

Because I was inspired by tags, why not a round of BB HCs?

Not TBB, just BBs. The characters, and I'm coming out the Clone Wars primarily, with only bits taken from TBB. ( Like a good fanfic, Let's steal back the small good things )

I know, I analyze--so let's see how far I can stretch it, yeah?

Today we are HCing...

99 AND THE 99 PROJECT

THE BAD BATCH'S MUTATIONS (Thus their abilities)

DOMINO SQUAD

( I would label it as Mature (Because I have a general idea of labelling), but Tumblr decided to be fucking hilarious about it--so I'm going ask you to be Mature. There's nothing explicit here, its about as snarky as a Discworld novel. So Guess that means its Teens and Up, PG-13, or whatever. )

99 INSPIRED THE 99's PROJECT

"Old man 99!? THE JANITOR FROM KAMINO!?"

Whether 99 was an alphagen or a first-gen, the idea here is based on small TCWs comments. Stuff about "Growth" tubes.

Its probably in the capitalist-eugenics aliens' (kaminonians) interest to skip the uncomfortable bits in natural human growth. After all the uncomfortable bits of human growth aren't Profitable.

So, have an age to load a clone into a growth tube, and just, rapidly grow them until they're the stage you want (to be profitable). This means skipping teenage years. It means skipping the small childhood years.

So, given that 99 is mature and capable, he was likely loaded into a growth tube about where his "teen years" would start... and it went horribly wrong. Aging him by decades instead of a few years.

And the 99 project, would be Nala Se's little project, to find out why it went so wrong--and then to fix it for future clones. Because after all, you can't have an army of old men.

And judging by the fact that 99 is the only Old Man Clone we've seen in TCWs, I imagine the project worked as intended--and like any greedy eugenic science-capitalist, Nala Se decided:

"Y'know, I could do something more with this. I could find the most common 'bugs' in our clone genome, and I could stretch them, and modify them, and make benefits out of these flaws."

And the 99s were created

ADDENDUM - on Growth Tubes

Growth Tubes would only be successful if the human brain was stimulated rapidly as the body grew, or you risk compromising the human brain. Its a very delicate organ and rapid growth would be very bad. So flash-training, basically rapidly dumping organized information and sensory input, would occur over the course of the rapid-growth. This is to ensure you have a nice healthy human brain afterwards. There are clones who did end up with a "leaky growth tube" (rumors about Hardcase), where the only issue hat ended up happening is a deficit in attention spans and impulsiveness.

What's significant about First-Gen clones, is that they mostly went the old fashioned way of growing--as in slow (but accelerated) growing. After First-Gen, Kaminonians decided: "No, this is not fast enough... and its too stressful, Teenage clones complaining about growing pains and having attitudes--its just too much. What do they think this is, a Human Domicile?"

Fast-Tracked clones are those who ended up in a growth tube the majority of their time, and even then, skipped steps once they were out. Domino Squad, being fast-tracked, maintained the "attitude" flaws characteristic of those who didn't spend a whole lotta time working with brothers out of the tube.

This is also why all "standard" clones look older than their early twenties. Many were grown out, biologically hitting the fast-forward on growing years to be fully grown. Chronologically, they are official "10". They only have 10 years of life, by the start of the war. Accelerated Aging measurement? 20. Because they are made to age twice as fast a normal humans. Biologically? Mid-20 to early 30s. It helps the resemblance to their prime, and avoids any possibilities of "late growth spurts". Luckily, clones are made to stay in their prime far longer than a normal human.

2. THE MUTATIONS OF THE BAD BATCH "They're non-standard but with abilities not seen in even normal humans."

The problem with finding a 'flaw' in a genome is that you have to ask...

a). Who is saying there is a Flaw? Are they someone you want saying that there is a flaw?

b). Why is it a flaw? ... But is it really?

c). what are they going to do to "remedy" the "flaw"? Is it an actual remedy, or are they just saying it is.

And being capitalist-eugenic scientists, who study the science of profiting from genes and geneing from profits, certain "flaws" are going to be the non-profitable kind.

They probably think its a terrible terrible sin, that the human genome is not naturally made to make capital.

But through this list of Flaws, Nala Se decided--"we can gene splice can't we? Yes, why shouldn't I gene splice. I can make much better clones through splicing."

After all, if you're going to make money from genes, in order to do more geneing, adding more Genes should surely add more Money.

FOR WRECKER...

(Shift from "canon"--for thematic reasons, this Wrecker is 9901)

Kaminonians are baffled by how strong and yet delicate humans are. They can lift 300 pounds, and yet can still get crushed to death by 300 pounds.

Its ridiculous, really.

So Nala Se took notes and samples from the beauty and gracefulness that is the Rancor.

And for her designated 9901, gave him near instantaneously recovering muscle, that could lift 3x the normal 300 pounds of health humans, and indestructible bones.

Why if an explosion were to hit 9901's face head on fro the left side--it would not, in fact, pulverize his skull or any the soft tissues the skull protects. The eye would absolutely be kriffed though.

Sure, the increased metabolism might be a bit too grand for the rations...

But the Kaminonians were assured--they are specially crafted rations, and the clone will just have to adapt. Humans can just, not be hungry after all, why it takes a month for an average human to starve! If the clone complains, well he is getting fed so he wont' starve. It's a bargain, after all. He's lucky the Kaminonians are even bothering.

FOR HUNTER...

( Shift from "canon"--for thematic reasons, Hunter is now 9903 )

The various pores of the human face always seemed to... leak to the Kaminoinans. Why do humans have to do so much leaking? Ought to make all those "face pores" that do their "poring", do actual useful work for once.

So for 9903, he got an ampullae. Plenty of the predators on the planet of Kamino had ampullae, and they seem to get along just fine.

Because of the odd small organ network that encompassed his face and down his neck, connecting various natural human senses such as scent, taste, sight, and hearing, 9903 proved to be passively sensitive towards electromagnetic fields. He would always know where North is on a planet. He would always know where he was at, and what was around him.

Why, the Kaminonians though, that would be PERFECT for droids! Droids have electric-magnetic fields!

... The unfortunate fact, that the Kamionians neglected to add, is that Everything produced an electromagnetic field, and super imposing upon natural humans senses of "being sensitive to particles" and "being naturally sensitive to atomic wavelengths"...

is that it would be a sensory nightmare. A cacophony of hell from the very world around him, to consume him utterly.

Well... The clone will just have to adapt, as the Kaminonains say. By the very coral reefs of Kamino, the clones are just not grateful for the work we do over their petty little lives.

FOR CROSSHAIR...

( For thematic purposes--we're keeping 9904 )

Humans have such tiny eyes, the Kaminonians think, how do they see so much if they're so tiny? and sensitive. By the whale song of the sea, Human eyes are just Too Sensitive.

So for 9904, they gave him super sight. But not just super sight, but super duper protected sight. They decided that the vestigial "third eyelid" had no business being vestigial anymore, the lazy little thing, and regave it life in 9904's eyes.

Why it could protect from Water, and Dust, and Bright Lights.

And they, the Kaminonians, were really reeving up now. Why just stop there? Give him reflectors. Let him see in the dark!

Why didn't we think to do this for all the clones?

Because sudden lights and sudden darkness, would mess up his eyes immediately. Because long term lights would cause a sensory overload. And long term darkness would cause (temporary) color blindness.

And no amount of protection stops a blaster to the face.

Well, thinks the Kaminonains, Its not as bad as the last ones.

FOR TECH...

( For thematic purposes... he is 9906. Yes, I like "Baby Tech", shush you. )

We know exactly what to do with this one, thinks the Kaminonians. Humans are just so... Dull. We load their brains nice and healthy, and they're still so dull.

We want at least one to have an intelligent conversation with.

I KNOW, LET'S MODEL THIS ONE AFTER US--THE KAMINONIANS! And we're geniuses you know, why shouldn't at least... one clone, be a genius like us.

For 9906, they attempted the daunting task of Modifying the Brain. Increasing memory retention and synapses flexibility. Awareness and understanding--a living computational organ.

And 9906 was Perfect.

... Save that he did not like Kaminonians, because healthy human brains, by any standard, tend to develop things like "Understanding" and "Feelings for and about other People", and tend to greatly dislike those who want to treat other people monstrously.

Why, 9906 even argued against the treatment of Clones. Clones are capable of thought and creation, they are a people and thus their own culture.

And the Kaminonians mourned. Clearly, all the work they put into this brain was for Nothing!

It only wants to learn about the galaxy and discover the beauties and wonders behind technology and space and peoples--why, it doesn't think of Profit or Genes at all!

It even argued that it wasn't a Product to be Sold, but a person to be talked to. The Kaminonians found this scoffful.

It would learn, the Kaminonians decided, oh it would learn.

ADDENDUM

What about 9902 and 9905? Well... Heheheh.

DOMINO SQUAD "A real domino effect, this one."

There are birth batches, and there are batch-squads. Birth-batches separate to all become batch-squads... but not all batch-squads are from the same birth-batch.

Such is the case of the fast-tracked "Domino Squad". Because they were fast-tracked, these clones spent an unpresidented time in the growth-tube. And worse, each one had a falling out with their original batch-squad.

The one that would be known as "Hevy" was overly confrontational, and prone to starting fights. He failed out of his original batch-squad for his attitude and physical violence.

He mellowed out, once he found that his aggression lead to serious consequence, but it didn't completely stop the fights or the lone wolfing. (Until after graduation).

The one that would be known as "Cutup" never took anything seriously, and his old trainers (and old squad) had enough. The trooper didn't even take regulations seriously, and was caught with contraband (Cutup couldn't believe that simple playing cards were "contraband", haven't they ever heard of a game before?)

The one that would be known as "Droidbait", tended to give up too easily, in a total reverse to "Hevy's" situation. Surrender is not acceptable, and he'll have to relearn the hard way.

The one that would be known as "Fives", ironically, did not have a poor record following him for anything he did. Half of his birth-batch-squad were found deceased after a training exercise. The survivors were sent elsewhere. For this, Fives was a quiet, serious but very anxious cadet and rookie until he hit arc-trooper. He kept even his name close. Just in case. Fives got to watch one of the survivors graduate with Bravo Squad. He never found out what happened to him after that.. but he doesn't assume its good.

Always have to adapt on the fly, because if you don't, the situation might just kill you. No matter how "Safe" everyone says it is. In fact, especially if its "Safe".

The one that would be known as "Echo" was the most devious.

By all accounts, Echo was a stand up trooper--he read the regulations and followed them to the letter. He took pleasure in buffing his armor and uniform. He could recite exact rules, was perfect in inspections. He knew exactly where everything is and how to act as expected. A true "By the Book" trooper. Why, what could ever be wrong with Echo?

Because if you look like you belong, and if you know the rules, you can do Anything. And Echo, he knew that people knew that the Way Things Act were often considered more important than What Things Actually Are, but you still have to Play Expectations if you want to get what you want.

And Echo, he tended to learn how play expectations. The fact is, while it was considered an accident and misunderstanding--Echo put himself in a position to get transferred away from his old birth-squad.

( He had nothing against his old birth-batch. They were fine lads. But Echo refused to be canon-fodder. If he was going to go out into the galaxy and make a difference, he was going to do it his way--if he was going to get blown up, it was because he damn well decided he was going to get blown up, not because a general told him to. )

Yes it would mean being held back. But such is the price of prep work (He certainly didn't feel like he was ready--and he wanted to test the waters a bit longer), and well, there had to be brothers on Kamino, who actually think about what they're being told--not just blinding follow without consideration.

And you can only work the rules to your liking, if you know what the rules are. Good thing Echo likes to read.

ADDENDUM

Reason Birth-batch and Batch-Squad are separate, is because the general idea is that they birth clones enmass, but since we only ever see cadets in squads, they aren't necessarily trained enmass.

There had to be a reason why Echo had the Balls to jump Rank and talk to a General, as a cadet, as request transfer.

None of the numbers of Domino Squad match up to indicate that they're apart of the "Birth-Batch". So this sugested to me that they might be from different batches--and thusly, are probably a "throw them together" squad.

[echo-goes-mmm]

Go ahead, tell us about the eels.

Ramble.

Tell us your world building fun.

Okay so there's a couple things going on.

The Northernlands has the shortest growing season in the country due to the cold. This means fresh crops and even livestock are limited.

Alternate sources of food are incredibly important, especially in winter.

Enter, the Kiah Great Lake eels. They're exclusive to this lake and its connected river.

The eels are a unique fish, and have several qualities that make them loved in The Northernlands.

First, they're incredibly abundant. You don't have to worry about over fishing them.

Secondly, they're delicious. Fried, smoked, seared, roasted, salted. They're fantastic.

Third, and most important, they're active in winter and easy to fish in all seasons.

Because of all these put together, eels are a staple food in The Northernlands. It's classless; everyone from the lord to the merchants to the peasant folk eat eels.

Even when in peak growing season and harvest time, because they taste so good.

Outside of The Northernlands, it's a different story.

Eel doesn't exactly look appetizing. They're eels.

But due to Rich People Nonsense, the upper classes in other regions import eel at an expensive price. After all, Lord Tenna ate eel at his own wedding! It must be good!

(For example, Ambrose's parents had eel on their banquet tables during celebrations.)

This creates an odd dichotomy. In The Northernlands, eel is as common and cheap as bread.

Everywhere else, eel is like caviar. Rich people food that's expensive and impractical.

So if you're a northerner, suddenly you seem odd and perhaps wealthy if you mention you miss your mom's eel recipe.

In the north, everyone loves a good smoked eel. It unites people. Everywhere else, it's a class divide. No one has tasted eel except for those born wealthy.

[faaun]

LOVELY DAUGHTER UNSOUND MIND!

[eurekavalley]

I always thought it was funny that Northern Exposure and The Sopranos had the same EP, this makes it funnier.

Magical Realism: "Northern Exposure" 25 Years Later

[weshallc]

From the Northern Echo 30/08/23

[fieriframes]

[Name, at most— and even that is just a sound, an echo.]

[uselessgaywhovian]

okay, i’m on episode 7 and so far i don’t hate it.

it feels a bit like it was made more to be nostalgia bait for folks who know and love the original. like they’ve been speed running from iconic set piece to iconic set piece but stripping out much of the story that actually made them matter?

idk i don’t know a lot about writing, but some of these episodes feel like… reference mashups

[regivapor]

Echo pounces on a snowshoe hare in the winter.

[dailyjellyfish]

A rather unusual picture of a lions mane jellyfish that washed up in Seaham yesterday 😲

A great capture by Ian Maggiore of The Northern Echo Camera Club 👏

[theoldaeroplane]

an Important NPC in Fray's backstory, his second-in-command in his combat squad. sadly, she ruined his life and it was kind of on purpose. oops!

[phantoids]

I'll never not be salty about the northern tour not going any further north than the fucking northern Midlands. Come to the North East. Come to the North West. You can do it Wilbur. Don't be a coward.

[the-tropes-are-hungry]

I'm basically rewriting Hearthkeeper from the original Echoes of Arlathan fic from 2016 and that means I've made a lot of changes. But now I've fallen into a small re-read of parts of Disgrace and I'm. Hmm. I'm. Thinking. Connor has always showed up in Echoes/Hearthkeeper during the ritual to cure tranquility. But. With Veilguard. I'm thinking a thought. What if he shows up in person

[madleigharya]

🌲

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"FOURTEEN PULP CUTTERS NEEDED ON ECHO LAKE WORK," Sault Star (Sault Ste. Marie). May 8, 1934. Page 1. --- H. Patrick and E. White Seek Men; 12 Go On Drive --- Orders for 14 pulpwood cutters have been received by Superintendent Wm. Hunt. of the government employment service at the court house, and he is seeking men today to fill the order.

Ten men are required by H. Patrick, Rydal Bank, while four are sought by E. White, Garden River. The puipwood is at the head of Echo Lake and there is about 1,000 cords to be cut.

Mr. Patrick wants 10 men and he is offering $1.40 a cord with 75 cents a day charged for board. Mr. White offers $1.75 a cord with the same daily board allowance. In both cases men are to provide their own tools and blankets.

Last night 12 men left on the A. C. R. train for Glendale to go in to Ranger Lake where they will be employed on the Eastern Lumber Co.'s drive, which is starting now. The company kept most of its winter workers in camps for the drive.

[lola-writes]

Duty Is Sacrifice

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Velaryon/Strong!reader

Word Count: 2,6k

Themes & Warnings: Winterfell, pov. first person, feelings realization, fluff and smut, fingering, orgasm

Summary: Queen Rhaenyra sends you to treat with Lord Cregan Stark for the support of the North. In him you find not only an ally, but something deeper as well…

Song: Skin and Bones (Cinematic) - David Kushner

Masterlist | Add yourself to my taglist

Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

The wilderness beyond the Wall sprawled before me atop the outlook, an uncharted immensity dripping with anathema. A frozen wasteland, it held a cold that seemed to seep into your very soul, promising to turn your bones to ice with a single, lingering glance.

The stories from the seasoned rangers down below had painted a vivid picture, but this, this was a masterpiece beyond mere words. The frigid air, a living entity, tore at my dark hair and the borrowed furs – those very furs my stubborn pride had initially dismissed. Now, the only thing missing from mirroring those same hardened rangers was a permanent furrow etched between my brows, a testament to countless nights spent battling the elements. 

Their Lord was a wall of warmth which prevented the gnawing chill from consuming me. His massive form broadened at my side, his very presence thawing me. Turning to him, I observed the furrow deepening between his brows as he regarded me, though it wasn’t a testament to the cold, but rather something concerned. 

“Winterfell beckons, Princess,” he said, his timber thick with northern accent, “Let us return to warm you.” 

His gloved hand, rough yet surprisingly gentle, reached out for me. Relief washed over me as I grasped it, the worn leather a welcome anchor against the treacherous turret steps.

“Blazing fires. Hot stew. How’s that sound?” His stoic expression nearly cracked to the rumble in my stomach. I noticed I was still supported in his grasp well beyond danger, when I felt his thumb tracing reassuring circles on the back of my hand, sending a delicious shiver snaking down my spine.

Gently, I returned it to my side. “That would be most pleasant, thank you my Lord.”

Days had bled into one another at his side, treating, feasting, drinking, strategizing, and though I had no doubt I had fixed him as an ally to my mother’s claim, some other heat beneath the veneer of alliance had begun to simmer in his gaze, a spark that mirrored the disquiet blooming in my own chest.

The iron cage groaned its descent down to Castle Black, echoing through the black shaft like cries of the damned. From the moment I stepped foot in Winterfell, he’d woven a tapestry of comfort. He recalled every detail I mentioned in passing, and behind his every effort to make me feel at home was a gesture conforming to something I’d previously told him I enjoyed – a steaming mug of my favorite herbal tea, a book on a subject I’d once expressed interest in. He was unlike any man I’d encountered. Each word he uttered was a silken caress, so gentle it felt like he feared his own timber could bruise me. But a heavy weight had settled in my chest. My replies had now become clipped, mere whispers that barely escaped my lips. There was so much more at stake now beyond my desires. Duty loomed heavy on my shoulders. I feared any careless words or lingering glances could brittle the alliance with the Starks to pieces.

We mounted our horses and begun our nigh-on two days ride back to Winterfell. Though not as biting as the Wall’s teeth, the wind on the Kingsroad still carried a relentless edge. The only warmth to be found radiated shyly from the small fires Cregan’s bannermen had built, and the thick fur I wove tightly around myself at night.

As the colossal granite form of Winterfell finally clawed its way up from the horizon, a wave of exhaustion crashed into me, settling heavy in my bones. Dismounting was an ordeal. Every muscle in my body throbbed in protest from the days’ ride. My legs, leaden weights, buckled before I could even consider lowering myself. 

But before I could hit the ground, strong arms, surprisingly gentle, encircled my waist, and lifted me from the saddle before I could even think to react. 

We stood there, my body swaying slightly in his arms, our eyes lingering on each other for a second beyond my comfort. His eyes, normally the clear blue of a summer sky, were now a stormy gray, swirling with unspoken concern. A tremor of something akin to fear danced in my chest, battling the unexpected flutter at his touch. 

“Apologies, my Lord,” I stammered, cheeks flushing with a heat that had naught to do with exertion. “Dragon saddle is one thing, but I fear horseback is another entirely.” I smiled apologetically. 

Cregan’s fingers lingered on my waist, a gentle caress that singed through my leathers and into my very skin, sending a jolt through me. He withdrew them slowly, and my side ached from their absence. 

“Fret not, Princess,” he rumbled, his voice a warm current, “Two days on horseback have felled men twice your size.”

I giggled to his obvious attempt at comforting me. “I wouldn’t bet on that,” I replied, taking trembling steps toward the castle.

Once in my chambers, I collapsed onto the bed; sleep, thick and heavy, stealing the day. When I finally opened my eyes, the only light in the room spilled from the dying embers in the hearth. 

A gnawing hunger, cold and insistent, hollowed my gut. With a deep breath, I rose, and dressed in my house colors, the fabric thick with responsibility. Then, I descended the steps in my hunt for scraps.

The massive oak doors of the Great Hall ground open, revealing a cavernous space bathed in the flickering, golden glow of a roaring fire. Laughter and the murmur of rough voices hung in the air. Fur cloaked figures huddled around the immense hearth at the far end, casting dancing shadows on the towering walls. Lord Stark sat amidst his bannermen; tankards raised in boisterous revelry. 

The merriment dipped as I entered. Heads swiveled my way, some splitting into knowing grins. The bannermen rose in unison, scattering like startled crows, their boisterousness replaced by a respectful chorus of greetings and a flurry of curt bows. 

“My regrets for missing supper,” I said, drawing Cregan’s heavy gaze. His shadowed form, a giant even in the flickering firelight, rose with a quiet grace that belied his imposing physique. 

“You need not worry,” he said, ladling steaming stew from a small pot over the fire and offered me the bowl with one hand. A grateful smile lit my face as I accepted it. 

“You grow quite comely as a serving girl,” I jested, a flicker of triumph igniting in my chest when his mouth quirked up into a faint smirk, a flicker of warmth dancing in his eyes, a rare concession on his normally stoic face. 

I settled onto the bench beside his chair and began devouring the stew, its meat and vegetables soothing the ache in my belly. As I ate, I stole glances at Cregan, his face bathed in the rich firelight, a mask of unreadable emotions. 

Regret, sharp and unwelcome, tightened in my chest as I observed him. I had a duty fulfilled, but a heart unsatiated. I had come to Winterfell to remind him of the oath his house swore to my mother, and he had not left me wanton. Yet, the journey back to Dragonstone loomed large in my mind. The prospect of leaving him, perhaps for a very long time, cast a long shadow. Unless he too agreed to join us.

“The Queen’s sworn allies are too few to win a war for the throne,” I declared, my voice tight with the weight of responsibility, “She needs your men.”

His jaw clenched, his stoicism returning like a steel mask. “Cursed be the Hightowers,” he growled, venom lacing his voice. “But winter is coming. War of dragons is never a small ordeal. If the Queen is in need of my men to defeat the usurper, you must allow me to wait out the winter.”

Despair clawed at my throat. Memories and tales of past winters surfaced, stretching on for months, even years. Without the full support of the North, we could be crushed before winter even loosened its icy grip. Perhaps reduced to cinders beneath the wrath of the dragons. 

“It will be too late,” I pleaded, the urgency in my voice cracking the carefully constructed façade I had built.

Cregan met my gaze, his eyes a stormy gray. “It’s the best I can do, Princess. I hope you will forgive me.”

A spark of anger ignited within me, battling the tendrils of despair. “You swore an oath, Lord Stark.”

He held my stare, unwavering. “I haven’t forgotten,” he said, “You will have two thousand greybeards that can be ready to march at once.”

“What of you?” My voice trembled, tears welling up before I had the strength to stop them. “What if this is goodbye?” 

Understanding suddenly dawned in his eyes, and his brows furrowed in what I thought was despair. He came to sit beside me, the wood groaning under his weight. His large, calloused thumbs painted the tears across my cheeks. 

“I assure you, Princess,” he said softly, “This is not goodbye.” His hand came up to grasp my chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting it up to meet his intense gaze. “I swear it,” he vowed, steel threading through his words. Hope surged through me; a lifeline cast into the churning sea of anguish. 

Starks do not forget an oath. 

“The Hightowers were doomed the second they put the imposter on that throne,” Cregan rumbled, his voice a low caress. 

The space between us seemed to have dissolved, his calloused hands engulfing mine in a firm, reassuring grasp. Silence stretched, thick with unspoken emotions, tension dripping like honey. I waited for him to say something else, but he remained still, quiet, his fingers slowly and gently exploring mine, each touch sending sparks of lightning up my arms. I met his gaze, my breathing shallowing as I realized his lips were but a whisper away, his dark eyes shimmering with heat, flickering with an unspoken hunger that seethed beneath my skin with each second. 

“Their betrayal…” His voice was barely a whisper, his fingers ceased their dance with mine, and began their path up my arms, “…will not go unpunished,” he said thickly, his hands now grazing my upper arms, up my shoulders, ceasing at the curve of my neck, the movement sending a sizzling sensation through my blood. 

With the cold that had plagued me so these last few days, I began to fever. My lips parted as if I was suddenly short of breath, and I felt a curious pulse that drifted between my thighs. My whole body, like to an unseen force, drew closer to him, and he tensed beneath his leathers. His frame vibrated with desperate restraint, the fire in his eyes warring between duty and sacrifice. 

“I am a man of honor,” he groaned. My stomach tightened as his hands inched up my neck and traced the line of my jaw, his coarse thumb brushing across my lips. 

Something tugged on my stomach from the inside as the fiery heat of his fingers burned through my skin. My breaths came out ragged and shallow while he remained silent, as though he was immersed in concentration. 

Without knowing the full implication of my words, I whispered, “Dishonor me.”

For the storm, only just contained, raged wild in his eyes, a low growl sounded from deep in his chest before he crashed his lips to mine. 

I received them with a low, beckoning gasp. My palms came up to his neck, my nails running the length of it as he explored my lips, the roof of my mouth, my teeth, and under my tongue. Then his lips traced my jaw, finding my ear, breathed his warm air into it, nibbled my lobe, then covered my throat in wet kisses. I tilted my head to grant him access, as low, sensual mewlings poured from my lips, something carnal infiltrating my veins.

His hands came down to my waist, and I gasped in surprise when he lifted me and placed me in his lap, my legs latching around his back. 

He was so big and warm and hard. His eyes were lazy and dark as his fingers began to lightly trace down the side of my neck, then hooking into my dress to bare my shoulder. He kissed it with an open mouth and moving tongue, and I quivered beneath his touch. Then, with a sharp sound of a tear, he had pulled my dress all the way down my abdomen. 

He groaned at the sight of me, his lips slightly parted, his hands delicately cupping my breasts as if he’d found treasure. When the cold made me shiver, he leaned into me to lend me his warmth, while his lips tantalized me, drawing close to my hardened nipple, blowing it with hot air, then backing off, kissing across my breastbone to the other, until I forced his mouth to it.

He hummed with throaty satisfaction, latching onto it and giving it one slow suck, grazing the skin with his teeth. I threw my head back with a gasp. White heat shot like lightning between my thighs, before pulsing into an empty ache. I swayed into him, bucking my hips into his groin, feeling him harden beneath me. He suckled my other breast in warm, slow pulses, circling the areola, drawing panting moans out of me, before he found my lips again. 

Gathering my skirts, he moved his hands underneath them, gripping the fullness of my thighs, kneading them, squeezing them, to the point it pinched me, and I bit his bottom lip in protest. 

Cregan Stark was a gentle giant in all matters but things salacious. 

A throaty sigh escaped his lips as his hands found my buttocks, kneading the flesh between his fingers. Hot, slick tingles pooled between my thighs, and my fingers curled in his hair. My body hummed in anticipation as his finger slid downward, a groan pouring out of me as he grazed over my wet opening. 

“Oh, Princess.” The words were like magic on his lips, shooting through my core in throbbing pulses. 

His other arm snaked around my waist, locking me to his body as he explored and moistened my folds, leaving me a bucking, moaning mess in his lap. 

I felt empty and sickly. A fog had infiltrated my vision, my skin, my mind, my inhibitions. I coveted him. I needed him, more than I needed anything else. His eyes alone could touch inside of me, but I could not explain the pulsing, throbbing, delirious effects of his hands, his mouth, his tongue, and I ached for more. I felt unfinished, incomplete. 

Until he slid a finger deep inside me, and I gasped. Hot, sweet pressure filled me, and once I adjusted, he introduced another, threatening to overfill as he fingered me. 

Fast and then lazy. 

Over and over. 

The room filled with wet squelching noises and my moaning squeals. His deeper, throatier moans vibrated through his chest and lit me on fire, burning in my lower stomach, blazing, desperate for feed, or I would disintegrate. 

My nails dug desperately into his shoulders, as any attempts of filling myself up to completion were in vain by the power of his grip around my waist. He trailed every inch of my neck, kissing it as it if were my mouth, with lips, tongue, and teeth. His fingers penetrated deep and curled inside of me, rubbing something within that sent pressure bursting into tingles and flames, my veins burning up like dragon fire, and stars sparkling behind my eyelids. I cried out with the purest ecstasy as my body shuddered and clenched around his fingers, and he groaned against my skin with dark satisfaction as I clung to him desperately.

Once my trembles ceased and I managed to catch my breath, he took my cheeks in his hand and kissed me fiercely, passionately, his fires still boiling for release.

“I am coming with you,” he declared.

Tag list: @koyaa66648 @longlivemyblues @melsunshine @urdadsfavs @the-great-ladyg @barackosteaa @elysyannemimi @80sstradlin @hgyura @telltale-vixen @nyxbranwenn @tortargaryen @naxal-jlt @flowercrownsandherondales @red-hydra @lanadelray1989 @crumbledcastle28 @midnightcrw @prismaudee @nsr-15